


Prison Bonds

by GriffinRose



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Crying, Emotional Manipulation, Fire, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Keith (Voltron) Backstory, Keith has abandonment issues, Kind of Keith centric, Lance is supportive big brother, Original Character Death(s), Platonic Cuddling, multi-chapter, platonic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-10
Updated: 2017-03-22
Packaged: 2018-08-14 06:53:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 20,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8002624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GriffinRose/pseuds/GriffinRose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Keith and Lance are captured and stuck in a cell together, but it's not the Galra. They almost wish it was. These Cordalians feed off of emotions, and their favorite emotion is sadness. Worse, they've found a way to make their victims relive their worst memories to make that pain fresh again, and Keith has a lot of terrible memories he'd rather not relive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Situation

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a 5,000 word one-shot but here we are. I regret nothing.

Waking up was a painful experience. His head hurt, his body hurt, his left knee felt like it was on fire, and even the motion of opening his eyes felt painful. The light that filtered through when he did finally pry his lids apart hurt too. 

It was no surprise that he groaned. 

The voice responding to that groan...that was a bit of a surprise. "Keith? Keith! You're awake!" 

Keith jumped, aggravating every one of his injuries. 

"Sorry! Didn't mean to scare you...you've been unconscious for a while so I was surprised." Lance sounded like he was about to ramble, and Keith was decidedly not in the mood for that. 

"Why are you so loud?" Keith complained, lifting a hand to his head. 

"Sorry," Lance said, dropping his voice to be quieter. "I'm just...I was worried, okay? You took a lot of bad hits, and we're locked in some cell, and I have no idea what these guys want."

Every word was like another hit to the head. "Please stop talking." 

Lance went quiet immediately, and that was almost more concerning than anything he'd told Keith about their situation. 

Slowly, Keith forced his eyes open again. Lance was sitting next to him, a dark bruise swelling half his face. A glowing crystal in the ceiling provided their only light, so wherever they were was pretty dim. It felt like dirt beneath him, but Keith couldn't be sure, not when the laws of physics out here were so different from Earth. Anything went, really. 

"Are you okay?" Lance asked. 

"Peachy," Keith retorted. He pushed himself up onto his elbows, wincing at the pain. It wasn't as bad as he first thought, which was a relief. He probably hadn't broken anything, but he'd be a mosaic of black and blue under his suit. 

Lance put a hand on his back to help him, and Keith didn't try and push him off. They could be petty once he actually had a grasp of what was going on. Half of what Lance explained had already dropped out of his head. That boy talked way too fast. 

The cell they were in looked like an underground cave. The walls and ceiling were also made of dirt (if it really was dirt) and even the bars were made of the same material. It smelled like dirty dish water. 

"Bayards?" Keith asked, looking at Lance. 

Lance shook his head. "Woke up without 'em. And those mud bars are stronger than they look." 

Well, there went plans A and B. 

Keith rubbed a hand across his forehead, smearing something across his skin. Pulling his hand away, he found dark red staining the black glove. 

"Like I said, you took a lot of bad hits," Lance said. "I didn't really have anything to bandage you with, but I tried to keep it clean, at least." 

"Thanks," Keith said. Whatever injury or infection he had could be handled once they were back on the ship with the others, and he'd worry about his health there. For now, he was more concerned with getting to the others. If they were even okay. "Where are the others?"

"I don't know," Lance said. His voice was low, and he didn’t fidget like he usually did. It was disconcerting to see him so still. "They're not in any of the neighboring cells. I'm not even sure they know we were captured." 

That led to another interesting question for Keith: How did they get captured? He remembered the distress signal and the rush for the lions, him and Lance running through some sandy plains...they must have been ambushed or something. 

"What happened, exactly?"

"You don't remember?" Lance asked, brows shooting up in surprise. "Oh, duh, concussion. That makes sense." His brows returned to a more normal place above his eyes. "We were scouting ahead to try and find the source of a distress call when we got ambushed. They weren't Galra, and they fought dirty. Their bodies...man it was freaky. I don't know how much you remember, but they were like land octopuses or something. No bones. They could twist away from every shot, and then bam! They'd attack."

That sounded vaguely familiar. Keith could picture the aliens, at least. Brown, like the sand around them, letting them blend in with their surroundings and then sneak up on their prey. And they had sort of looked like octopuses. Their heads had been bulbous and flowed seamlessly down to their body, where multiple arms and legs stuck out of them. Each arm and leg had something like fingers and toes though, instead of suction cups. And they had been fast and strong. 

"Okay, so we were ambushed and kidnapped," Keith surmised. "Why? What do they want with us?"

"I'm thinking we're either bait for the others or they're waiting for Galra to come pick us up and pay them some kind of reward. Or they're hunting down our lions and waiting to see if they need us." 

Those were actually intelligent possibilities. Keith looked Lance over again. He hadn't been replaced with some kind of clone, right? Oh man, did Keith even know Lance well enough to be able to tell the difference? 

His mind made a quick list of the things he knew about Lance: Shamelessly flirted with almost anything that moved. Constantly told bad jokes and puns. Always picked fights with him. Had an ego bigger than their ship. 

Since Keith had woken up, Lance had not said a single joke or picked any kind of fight. He hadn't even made any grandiose claims about getting them out of here. The flirting Keith could look past (He was the only one there, after all, so he couldn't be sure. He'd come back to that point the second someone new came in.)

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Lance asked. 

Did he mention he was questioning if this was the real blue paladin? Or would that trigger some kind of attack sequence in the clone? But how could he be sure otherwise? 

"Seriously, man. I know I'm beautiful but you're freaking me out."

Never mind. This was definitely Lance. "Sorry. I just...you're acting weird. Had me worried you weren't really you." Keith looked down at the floor between his legs.

“What?” Lance gave a small laugh and ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head. “I’m the real deal. C’mon, you think anyone could replicate all this?” 

“They definitely wouldn’t be able to replicate your ego, that’s for sure,” Keith said. 

“Hey!” 

Keith smiled. The banter helped. It made everything feel normal again, helped him get his head on straight. 

Lance just crossed his arms and pouted. “I can’t believe I was worried about you. I thought we were bonding!” 

Keith rolled his eyes. He said it one time and Lance was never going to let him live it down. Excuse him for being straightforward with his human interactions. 

“But, y’know,” Lance started, letting his hands drop down to his lap. “It might not be a bad idea if we did have some sort of way to check that we are the real ones.”

“What, like a code word or something?” Keith asked. 

“Yeah! But it would have to work two ways. One person needs to ask the other something, something random, like, like…what kind of pizza do you want?” Lance’s eyes had gone wide and he was smiling. 

“What kind of pizza do you want? Really?” Keith asked. He really did not have the energy to deal with Lance like this. What even went on in his head?

“No one outside of Earth would know what pizza is!” Lance exclaimed. “So any imposter would just be really confused!” 

Keith blinked. He’d been glad for Lance’s company when he first woke up, but now he really wished they were in different cells. 

“Oh, but the answer,” Lance went on, hand gesturing wildly. “The answer wouldn’t actually be pizza! That way if some Galra actually does research and finds out what pizza is, then no matter what they say it would be wrong and we would know!” 

This boy was way too worked up about this, Keith decided. 

“Are you ready for this,” Lance asked, putting a hand on Keith’s shoulder and looking him dead in the eye. “The answer is Mint Chocolate Chip.” 

It took Keith almost an entire minute to form any sort of response, and in the end he settled on “Why.” 

“I told you!” Lance said, and then launched into a repeat of his explanation. It made as much sense as it did the first time, and Keith had to admit the idea had its merits. 

He also admitted that Lance was still loud and he still had a concussion, and he would do whatever it took to make this boy stop talking. “Okay, okay, I like it. This works. Whatever.”

Lance beamed, but then his eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Wait, are you just saying that so I’ll stop?” 

Keith put a hand to his head. “Yes. Yes I am. My head still hurts.” 

Instantly, Lance’s face morphed into one of concern. “Right, sorry.” His voice dropped down to a more bearable volume. 

The silence of the next few minutes was absolute paradise. 

“What happened to our helmets, anyway?” Keith asked. 

“We had taken them off when we stopped for a break. The surface of this planet is really hot; both of us were sweating out of them. We were ambushed before we could get them back on.” 

“Any idea how far we are from where we were ambushed?” 

Lance shook his head. “I was knocked out too, but not as badly. I woke up when they threw us in here. That was hours ago.” 

So who knew how long it took them to get here from where their helmets were. It could have been minutes, it could have been another few hours. 

“But I’m sure the others are looking for us. They have to know we’re missing by now. They’ll track our helmets and figure out what happened, and they’ll come rescue us. I bet they’re on their way right now,” Lance said. “Any minute, you’ll see. Shiro will come racing down that hall with his hand glowing and he’ll smash through those bars.” 

Keith could picture it happening, and he actually let himself hope that it would be any minute, like Lance said. 

But minutes turned into an hour before anyone came down the hall. And it wasn’t Shiro. 

It was some of the aliens that attacked them. Or least some of the same species. 

Keith and Lance were both on their feet and rushed the bars. “Let us out of here!” Keith demanded. His fingers curled around the odd mud bars. They didn’t make any sort of impression or give way at all. Lance had been right; they were stronger than they looked. That only made him angrier. 

A sinewy arm snaked out and grabbed Keith’s hand, latching onto his fingers. “No.” They didn’t know where the mouth was, but they heard the one word loud and clear. 

“What do you want with us?” Lance asked. He’d let go of the bars as soon as Keith’s hand had been grabbed, and he’d moved to that side of Keith in case he needed to help pry the thing off of him. 

“We are the Cordalians,” the one not latched onto Keith said. “And we brought you here for sustenance.” 

“Sustenance?” Keith repeated, putting the puzzle pieces together in his head. He didn’t want to. He didn’t like the picture he was getting. 

Lance, apparently, didn’t like it either. “You’re going to eat us?! Hell no!” He reached through the bars and chopped at the arm holding Keith. “Let go of him!” 

“Yes, panic. It’s delicious.” A moan followed the words, and Keith tried desperately to snap his hand out of the thing’s grip. 

“Your emotions are some of the strongest we’ve ever tasted,” the other one said. 

Keith and Lance both froze, trying to process that statement. 

“We don’t know what planet you hail from, but if your kind are all like you then we need to find it. We’d never go hungry again.” 

“Nope. I don’t understand that threat but it is a threat against our home and you are not getting anywhere near it!” Lance shouted. He reached both arms through the bars again, grabbed onto the alien arm still holding Keith, and twisted his hands in opposite directions. 

Both the aliens just looked at Lance. “What did you hope to accomplish?” 

Lance licked his lips. “Um…anything, really.” 

“Ohhh his fear is growing stronger,” one of them said. 

“It is not!” 

“So delicious,” the other replied. 

“Hold on!” Keith yelled, getting everyone’s attention. His mind was still racing to try and understand what was happening, and he wanted answers. “Your…people, you eat emotions?” 

The bulbous heads nodded. “All creatures give off chemicals with each emotion,” the one holding onto him said. “Some beings do this more strongly than others. Whatever you are, you are some of the strongest emoters we’ve ever tasted.” 

Keith sort of understood what they meant. He knew something about the chemical signatures of the body, but he didn’t understand how they could feed off of it. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know, either. 

“So you don’t kill your prey?” he pressed. 

Lance whimpered at the thought. 

“Not immediately. We can exist symbiotically with most creatures. But ever since the Galra invaded centuries ago, trade has slowed on Cordalia. Our resources are dry, and we have been forgotten, left to starve and rot. We do not feed off of each other…our emoting signal is weak. Only the strongest emotions escape our beings, and that is rare.” 

“So you need other types of beings to feed off of and survive,” Keith said. 

“Yes. Which is why when any newcomers arrive…we do not let them leave. Ever.” 

He’d had a feeling that was where this was going. 

“The two of you will be enough to sustain our clan for quite a while. The madness might not even take hold for decades.”

“Whoa, hold on, madness?” Lance asked. “What is that?” 

The Cordalians glanced at each other. “We manipulate our prey’s minds to force them into feeling the strongest emotions. Some minds break during this process, if done enough.” 

“You what?” Lance shrieked. “Not cool! I was almost feeling sorry for you guys, but you know what? Not anymore!” 

Keith, for once, was on the same page. If there had been no harm done to them, he wouldn’t have minded helping these guys out until the others found them. But now the cage was starting to make more sense, and he was back to just wanting out of it. 

“Look, we’re paladins of Voltron. We’re trying to defeat the Galra empire. Once we do trade will be reestablished with your planet, and you can go back to having a symbiotic relationship with other people,” Keith tried. 

“And how long will that take?” one asked. 

“Uh…”

“Too long,” the other replied. “We need to survive now, and we do what we must.” 

“This is a short term answer for a long term problem!” Lance said. “Let us go and we can give you a long term solution!”

“And by then we could be dead, so it won’t matter. But you are here now, and we can use you.” 

Keith tried again to break his hand free, but the alien’s grip was like an iron shackle. 

A tan eye stared at him, and as Keith watched, it turned bright green. His body stopped fighting, though he didn’t tell it to. It felt like some kind of snake had slithered into his head and coiled around his mind, trapping him. 

“The most powerful emotion for most beings is sadness,” the Cordalian said. “Unlike other emotions, this one hangs around long after whatever event triggered it. Happiness and anger are both so fleeting, but sadness…this is one that hangs around a being for days with little prompting.” 

So the creature was going to manipulate him into feeling sad? Fine then, Keith thought. He knew how to deal with sadness, how to take that emotion and lock it in a box, and then bury that box at the bottom of an ocean for good measure. They’d be in for quite a surprise when he didn’t stay sad for very long. 

“What makes you sad, paladin?” the Cordalian asked. “Think hard now. Your saddest memory…a death perhaps, of someone you loved?” 

There had been very few people in his life he’d ever loved. Most tended not to stick around very long, and he forced himself not to think of the others. Shiro was the only exception, because Shiro was the only one still around. 

Two faces flashed through his mind before he could stop them. 

The creature’s grip on his hand tightened. 

“Keith, you okay?” Lance asked. 

Keith could see the hand land on his shoulder from the corner of his eye, but he couldn’t feel it. He couldn’t feel any part of his body, now that he thought about it, not even his bruises or his concussion. 

“What are you doing to him?” Lance demanded. “Stop it!” 

The faces flashed past again, but they weren’t as blurry. Their image was sharper. No, Keith thought. Not now. 

“Don’t fight it,” the Cordalian soothed. “Let the memory wash over you.”

“What memory?” Lance asked. “Keith, fight it! You can beat whatever this thing is!”

Fight what? What was happening? Keith couldn’t think straight. He couldn’t even see straight. He knew he was staring at that green eye, but he wasn’t really seeing it. Was it an eye or a shirt? Were these brown poles in front of him bars or the legs of his kitchen table? 

Was that an alien’s voice or his mother and father? 

They were….it was…he was…he was where, again? With who?

He blinked, and opened his eyes to see his kitchen. The white linoleum floor was peeling next to the wall, hidden by the table he was currently playing under. A few feet away he could see his mother’s bare feet, moving gracefully over the kitchen floor while she cooked dinner. Within a minute the front door open and closed and his father’s boots walked into view.

Keith raced out from under the table and launched into his father’s waiting arms. “Daddy!”


	2. Light 'Em Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Drinking, mentions of alcoholism, language, arguing parents, and house fires ahead.   
> And then copious amounts of fluff.

From under the table, Keith watched his mother bounce from foot to foot, humming one of his nursery rhymes while she cooked. She was making his favorite- dak galbi. The aromas of the different spices made everything smell good, which was why he was playing in here and not in the living room. He loved the smell of dak galbi. It was part of why this was his favorite. 

A door closed, and heavy boots walked into view. Keith smiled and raced out from under the table, launching himself into waiting arms. “Daddy!” 

“Hey kiddo,” his father said. He rested Keith on his hip, supporting him with one arm while another reached up to ruffle Keith’s hair. “You being good?” It was easy to tell that Keith got a lot of his looks from his father. They had had the same eye shape and the same black hair, and the same nose, but the color of his eyes was from his mother and in time he’d have her face shape. 

“Uh huh! Look what I made in pre-school!” Keith said, pointing eagerly to the fridge. A piece of paper was secured by no less than five magnets, covering most of the bottom of the fridge. A crudely shaped elephant was painted on the surface, done with steady fingers and a rainbow of paints. 

His father walked over to the fridge and squatted down. “Look at that. I’ve never seen an elephant with that many colors before.” 

“Steven wouldn’t let me have the gray, and when I tried to use blue I got yelled at for not sharing, so I had to use a bunch or I’d get yelled at again.” Keith pouted for a moment, but then his smile returned. “But that’s okay! I just pretend he’s from Mars and that’s why he’s got so many colors.”

“A Martian elephant, huh,” his father said. “Never would have thought of that.” 

Keith beamed. His father slid him off his lap onto the floor and then pulled the fridge open. He pulled out a brown bottle and popped off the cap with the counter next to him. 

A heavy sigh came from the woman cooking. “Not even home five minutes and you’re already drinking,” she stated. 

“Give me a break,” he retorted, easy humor gone and replaced with irritation. “It’s Friday and I’ve had a long week.” 

She glared at him from where she was cutting up vegetables. “Then what was the excuse on Monday? Or on Saturdays for that matter? Or any other day of the damn week?”

“You really want to do this now in front of him?” 

“Oh please, like you care. You’ve said and done far worse in front of him before.” She slid the vegetables into a wok. 

Keith retreated under the table, grabbing onto his Optimus Prime toy and hugging it to his chest. He hated when his parents fought. 

“Only when I’m drunk!”

“Which is every damn night! You have a problem!” 

“I’ve got lots of problems! This takes the edge off, you know that! You knew that when you married me!”

“It wasn’t as bad then!” she shouted. “You limited yourself to weekends only, and when Keith was born you almost quit altogether! But now you’re worse than ever! You need help Kevin!” 

“Yes, I do drink more now, you know why? Because my job fucking sucks and when I come home I get you nagging at me all night!” 

“Oh I’m sorry I ask you to fix things around the house because you’re my husband and you actually know how!” 

The steps she took around the kitchen weren’t graceful now, they were angry stomps. 

Keith pulled his knees in close to his body. Their fights weren’t always this bad, but it happened more than he liked. The yelling was only going to get worse until his father snapped and slapped his mother, unless she snapped first and hit him (those fights took days to get over. Neither one of them spoke to the other much.)

“Maybe I’d like to come home and just relax once in a while, not spend the rest of my waking hours being your personal repair man!” 

“Well if you fixed things right the first time you wouldn’t have to keep fixing them!” 

“It’s not my fault! This house was old thirty years ago! You’re the one who wanted to get an old house because it had ‘charm’ and ‘character!’” 

“So now it’s my fault?” 

“Yes! I wanted a more modern house that wouldn’t need my constant attention!” 

“You loved this house too when we bought it so don’t give me that!” 

“I loved it because you were so enamored with it! I wanted to make you happy!”

“Well I’m certainly not happy now!” 

“Of course not. You’re never fucking happy!” 

Keith squeezed his eyes shut and dropped his toy, using his hands to cover his ears instead. 

The plastic clattering on the floor reminded both parents that there was a toddler in the room still. 

“Look,” his father said, taking a deep breath. “We’ve gone over this before. We can’t afford to move, so we’re stuck with what we’ve got. Maybe we just need to get used to the idea of living in a broken house.”

“That’s not the only thing that’s broken,” his mother muttered. The knife chopped down on the cutting board, slicing through the chicken violently. “And you know maybe we’d actually be able to afford a new house if you stopped drinking all our money!” 

The bottle slammed into the ground, exploding on impact. Beer and glass shot in every direction, and Keith jumped so badly he hit his head on the table. 

Neither of his parents noticed. He started to crawl forward, tears in his eyes, but his parents kept going. “Damn it, Min, enough already!”

“Yes, this is enough, I’ve had it!” His mother reached for the oil and splashed it into the wok, but in her anger she’d been sloppy. Half of it splashed over the sides and all over the counter, and it dripped down into the flame of the stove. 

The resulting fire was instant. 

“Shit!” his dad yelled, running towards the sink. 

His mother was already reaching for a towel on the table when the faucet turned on. “No you idiot, don’t put water on it!” 

Keith didn’t know why not, but he did know what the fear in her voice meant. He watched as his father threw a bowl of water over the flames as his mother tried to beat out the flames with the towel. To Keith, it was like the fire exploded, instantaneously growing until it reached the cabinets above the counter and also grabbing hold of his mother’s shirt. 

She screamed. 

“Min! Stop, drop, and roll!” Kevin said. 

She dropped without another word and rolled in the limited floor space before anyone could think. She crushed the broken glass and crashed into the chairs, and the wooden furniture didn’t take much to catch on fire. 

It came within a foot of Keith, hot flames and acrid smoke. Keith’s screams of terror mixed in with his mother’s, the bright orange flames flickering only inches from his face. 

“Fuck fuck fuck,” his father said. Hands wrapped around Keith and dragged him out from under the table. He bumped his head again, but he was in his father’s arms and that was what mattered. 

And then he wasn’t. The front door had opened and Keith was flying through the air, landing less than gracefully in the grass. And he watched his father run back inside without a word, calling Min’s name. 

Keith could see the light of the flames from outside. He could smell the burning meat and he heard their ancient smoke alarm going off. His mother had stopped screaming. The air was cool on his skin, so different from the intense flames he’d been only inches away from, and his head hurt from the two new bumps. 

His father didn’t come back out. The flames reached the front door before a fire-truck came, and Keith realized one of his neighbors had come out at some point and pulled him to the sidewalk, and someone had draped a blanket around him that he now clutched for dear life. 

By the time the fire was out and the firemen could risk going in after his parents, the only things they were able to bring out were two blackened corpses. His neighbor couldn’t turn him away in time. And even when they did, they couldn’t stop the smell of burning meat from reaching him, and Keith knew, he knew that it wasn’t the chicken that his mother had been cooking. No one had to tell him that it was what was left of his parents, that this charred stench would haunt him for years.

“It’s alright, Keith, you’re alright,” his neighbor soothed, rubbing a hand up and down his arms. “Everything’s going to be fine.” 

How? How would anything ever be fine? His parents were dead and everything was changing, he had just lost everything in a matter of minutes because of a splash of oil and damn it he didn’t want to cry, only babies cried, but he couldn’t help it the tears were just coming out.

“Keith? Hey, Keith, can you hear me?” 

Of course he could hear him, Lance’s voice was too loud to ignore even if he wanted to, but Keith was an emotional mess right now and just wanted to be left alone. 

Wait. He didn’t know any Lance’s. 

“Man, please tell me you can hear me,” Lance said. His head still hurt, and his vision was still blurry, and when had he fallen to his knees? When had his neighbor moved in front of him?

And become so tan? 

Keith blinked and rubbed his eyes. Lance was kneeling in front of him, hands on his shoulders. 

“Keith?” he asked. 

Looking around, Keith took in their cell. The Cordalians were gone, at least, but that didn’t make Keith feel any better. “Lance?” 

“Yeah, it’s me. Are you okay?” 

Keith took a shuddering breath. He had just relived his parents’ death, and it still felt like it only happened a few minutes ago. He’d just lost them all over again. That wound, that aching hole in his chest he’d spent years covering and burying, had just been ripped open. 

He shook his head and buried his face in his hands. The second a sob escaped his mouth, Lance had his arms around him and pressed Keith’s face into his chest. A hand pat his hair, and Lance muttered it was okay over and over. 

Eventually Lance shifted them so he was leaning against a wall with Keith more or less in his lap. Well, lap was a bit of an overstatement. His butt was on the ground, but Lance’s legs were folded around him like a protective cage. For once, Keith was glad for lack of personal space. 

It took over an hour for him to finally run out of tears, but even when he did he didn’t move from his spot. The reopened hole in his chest was wide and deep, and it felt like Lance was the only thing keeping him together. 

“Sorry about that,” Keith whispered. Wow my voice sounds absolutely terrible. It was hoarse and rough, and he would kill for some water about now. 

Lance shook his head again. “Everyone needs a good cry. And you did just like, relive your saddest memory or something. I’d say you earned it.” 

Keith smiled. “Thanks.” He knew he should move now, at least sit next to Lance instead of in his arms, but moving felt like more effort than it was worth and Lance seemed comfortable enough with their current arrangement, so he allowed himself the luxury of staying put in someone else’s arms. 

“What did you see?” Lance asked.

The simple question was like a punch to the gut, the fresh memories threatening to overwhelm him. His eyes were already watering again. 

“Hey, sorry, you don’t have to tell me right now,” Lance started. “But if you ever do want to talk about it, I’ll listen. No judgement I promise.” 

Keith considered it while he calmed himself down. He still didn’t want to talk about it right now, but maybe one day he would take Lance up on that.

He didn’t really know what, but something in their relationship shifted. The irritation and annoyance he usually associated around Lance wasn’t there. Maybe it was only temporary, a side effect of their current situation. They were both under a lot of stress, and it seemed only natural to put their ‘rivalry’ aside when they were the only two stuck in this cell. 

He was confident as soon as they were back on the ship things would go back to normal, but at least for now, Keith would enjoy this.


	3. Lance's Turn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance wants a deck of cards, Keith just wants out of the cell.   
> And the Cordalians want them both in pain.

When both of them woke up some time later, the awkwardness had finally returned. Keith jumped out of Lance’s arms, getting as far away as the cell would allow, and Lance pointedly looked anywhere else. 

Keith immediately noticed how much cooler it was without someone wrapped around him like a koala, but he also had elbow room again and that was wonderful. He could move without worrying about taking Lance’s eye out. 

“So, do you think they know we need real food still?” Lance asked. “I’m starving.” 

“That’s a good question,” Keith said. He strolled to the bars, peering out into the hall on the other said. He could just make out a doorway about thirty feet away, but it didn’t look like anyone was coming anytime soon. Sighing, he sat down and leaned against the bars. 

Silence only lasted for a few minutes before Lance was complaining he was bored. “Would it kill them to give us a deck of cards at least?”

“I don’t think cards even exist in space.” 

“They have to have some version of it,” Lance insisted. “You can’t tell me humans are so creative only we could have thought of drawing symbols on paper and creating a game around them.” 

Well when put like that Keith had to admit he was right, but he wasn’t going to say that out loud. 

“That’s the first thing I’m doing when we get back, making a deck of cards. I’ll tell Allura it’s a bonding exercise and then we can all play poker instead of get punched in the face by a stupid robot.” 

“She’s not going to fall for that,” Keith stated. 

“Then I’ll say it’s a human tradition and we are being deprived and how dare she deprive us of such a huge human experience.” 

“Not falling for that either.” 

“You just have to ruin all my fun, don’t you?” 

“Yep.”

Lance stuck his tongue out at him. 

“Good to know I am stuck with an actual five year old.” 

“Hey, five year olds can’t play poker.”

“I doubt you actually know how to play,” Keith stated. 

“Wanna bet?” 

“With what? Neither of us have any money. We don’t even have chores back at the castle.” 

“Huh, good point.” Lance put a hand to his chin. He snapped his fingers. “Push-ups! Loser has to do fifty push-ups!”

Keith raised a brow. They were both more than capable of doing twice that many, so it seemed like a pretty weak risk. 

“Alright, fine. You make us a deck of cards and we’ll play poker. Loser has to do fifty push-ups.” 

Lance beamed. “Okay, now we really need to get out of here so I can get started on this.” 

“Because the threat of starvation and emotional manipulation wasn’t enough,” Keith muttered, rolling his eyes. The hollow feeling from earlier was returning, no matter how much he focused on the current conversation. He wondered if Lance was even aware of what he was doing. 

“Those are pretty good, too, but I’m trying not to think about those. Which is why this is so perfect! Oh, maybe I could change the suits! Like, blasters and swords instead of spades and diamonds…or lions…and tigers and bears, oh my!” 

Lance waited with a giant grin on his face. Keith stared at him, deadpan, for a solid twenty seconds before giving in and laughing, and then Lance finally laughed too. 

Doubled over with tears streaming down their faces was how the Cordalians found them. Two trays of food and water were slid into the cell, and by then both boys had sobered up. 

Keith scrambled away from the bars. Bright flames flickered on the edge of his vision and he thought he could smell burned meat. 

Lance was suddenly in front of him, standing between him and the Cordalians. “Leave us alone,” Lance ordered. “You got more than enough emotion or whatever yesterday.” 

“Yes, the sheer amount of terror and anguish from him was absolutely amazing. But that seems to have faded considerably since then, and it is not strong enough anymore.” 

“You’re not touching him again!” Lance yelled. 

“If you wish to take his place today, we have no qualms with that.” 

Lance stiffened briefly before looking back at Keith. He offered the red paladin a small smile before striding forward. “Gladly.”

“Lance, no!” Keith said. 

“Hey, I doubt I’ve got any memories half as bad as what you do, I’ll be fine,” Lance said. Still, he hesitated before allowing the alien to take his hand. 

“We’ll see about that. You must have sad memories, all creatures do,” the alien said. His tan eye had turned green, a sign of whatever magic he was using. 

Keith wished for his bayard. It would be long enough to reach them through the bars of the cell, and stabbing these guys felt like the best idea in the world. 

But he didn’t have his bayard, and all he could do was watch as Lance slowly broke into a cold sweat before silent tears trailed down his face. The whole thing took less than ten minutes, and when it was over Lance fell to the ground in tears. 

“Lance!” Keith was by his side, hands on his shoulders. “Lance, talk to me!” 

“I’m sorry, I…” He buried his face in his hands as he cried harder. 

Keith didn’t hesitate before wrapping his arms around him, reciprocating what the other boy had done for him. 

“Ahh, delicious,” the aliens said. “Such anguish…”

“Nothing at all like our usual fare.” 

Keith glared at them. “Just get the hell out of here and leave us alone.” 

“Mmm and your worry is delectable too.” 

“Yes, two meals for the price of one. Taking both of you was genius.”

“Shut up!” Keith spat. He could probably punch them if he was quick; they were close enough to the bars, but Lance was leaning on his shoulder now and he wasn’t about to let him go. The aliens left without another word, snakelike arms rubbing against their stomachs. 

Keith took a deep breath to calm down. Lance needed him. 

“Come on,” Keith said, helping Lance to his feet long enough for them to settle down against the wall. They were in the same position as before, only Lance was the one in Keith’s lap this time. It was much more awkward like this. Lance’s long limbs didn’t fit as well in the circle of Keith’s embrace, and Lance seemed determined to burrow under Keith’s armor and make a new home there. Keith was also just generally more awkward in these situations and didn’t know what the hell he was doing. 

For all that though, it seemed to be working. Lance calmed down within an hour, though once he noticed their position he made no move to change it. Instead he just let his head rest against Keith’s chest. 

“I’m so pathetic,” he muttered. 

“No you’re not,” Keith said. “Didn’t you tell me that everyone needs a good cry once in a while?”

“Yeah, but this was so stupid.” 

“Nothing you feel that strongly about can be stupid,” Keith said. He wanted to ask what he’d seen, but it felt a little hypocritical after he’d refused to explain his memory yesterday. 

“It’s just…it feels so real, y’know? Like you’re really there reliving it. I didn’t expect it to be that powerful.” 

Keith hummed his agreement. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

Lance took a moment, and then he launched into the full story without another word. “I’m from a big family. Lots of aunts and uncles and cousins, and we’re all really close. My Uncle Tony, he was the biggest jokester ever. Always had a prank planned for every get-together, always knew how to make us laugh. He could mediate any fight, and any time me or my siblings or my cousins were sad, just five minutes with him put a smile on our face.” 

Keith did not miss how Lance was speaking in past tense. 

“When I was ten, he got sick. Really sick. He’d apparently been fighting cancer for over a year by then, but he didn’t want any of us younger kids to know. He lost a lot of his usual energy and could barely make it out of his house most days. And it was just terrible to watch. And it was terrible seeing what it did for the rest of my family. It took a long time to make us all smile again, when we got together, because we knew he was missing.”

He wasn’t sure when his arms had tightened around Lance, but he wasn’t going to loosen them. 

“Then he actually died, and we were all at his funeral.” More tears slid down Lance’s face, but he didn’t break into sobs again. “I hate seeing my family in pain, but that day, everybody was and I couldn’t do anything about it. Even when I tried to make jokes it just reminded us of him and why we were there in all black and that made everything worse.” 

Lance had curled into Keith more, making himself so small Keith wondered how this boy was possibly taller than him. 

“I just…I know whatever you saw was probably worse but it still hurts, I still miss him and all my family and I wish I could have at least gotten to say goodbye to everyone, instead of disappearing into thin air.” 

“Hey, you’re allowed to hurt,” Keith said, pulling out a gentle voice that he hadn’t known he’d even had. “My pain doesn’t negate yours, it doesn’t work like that.” 

Lance smiled. “You think we’ll ever make it back to Earth?”

“Of course we will. We’ll make it back, and we’ll be heroes, and that huge family of yours will carry you around on their shoulders for a week.” 

Lance gave a small laugh. “I hope it’s soon, then.”

“It will be,” Keith insisted, even though he barely believed it. They were fighting an empire that had taken over the entire universe. That was a lot of power for seven people to go up against. But even he knew that that wasn’t what Lance needed to hear right now. 

“We’re gonna be treated like royalty back home,” Lance said, words slurring together with the beginnings of sleep. His eyes had already closed, and Keith realized he was about to be stuck like this until Lance woke up again. 

He decided that was okay. He could deal with it, if that was what Lance needed right now. He just wished he’d sat a little closer to the food. 

There was no keeping track of time while they were there. What felt like days were probably only hours, and hours only minutes. Regardless, it was too long. The others had to be looking for them by now, so what was taking so long? Their helmets should be easy to track, and from there it’d be easy to see the fight they’d had. 

Unless they assumed it was the Galra who had taken them, and they were busy tracking ships to try and find them? 

Lance was already asleep against his chest, so Keith leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. 

He dreamed of fire and burning meat, of his father running away from him. But somehow when his mind tried to torment him with pictures of his parent’s gruesome deaths, they didn’t look like his parents at all. There were more than two bodies, and they all wore mostly white and black outfits. They screamed, loudly, and Keith didn’t want to look at their faces but he caught a glimpse of blue amongst the red, and his breath caught in his throat as his eyes travelled up to the face twisted in agony. 

Lance. 

Eyes shooting open, he subconsciously tightened his arms around the paladin in his arms. His breathing came in short spurts for a few minutes until he could calm down, timing his own breaths with Lance’s. 

Despite the tight hold Keith now had on Lance, the other boy didn’t even stir. Keith smiled. Even asleep, Lance was still able to calm him down, just by breathing. 

Keith had to wonder what this situation would have been like if he’d been alone, and he didn’t like the half-thoughts he allowed himself to think before forcefully derailing that train of thought. What was important was he wasn’t alone; he had Lance, and they were going to get through this. They weren’t paladins of Voltron for nothing. They would be fine. 

He repeated that mantra until he fell asleep again, cheek resting on top of Lance’s head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment or kudos! I love hearing from you guys!


	4. Abandoned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some foster families are better than others, but that doesn't always mean anything. The good ones can still leave too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I admit I don't know how foster care works, and I took major liberties with that in this chapter to fit the narrative. So take that with a grain of salt.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” Keith said. “There’s no way that happened.”

Both of them were sitting against the wall less than two feet away from each other. It had been a few days, as far as they could tell. Something about being the only ones down there had both of them clinging onto the other more than usual and they’d made a silent agreement not to say anything about it. 

Currently, they were passing the time by telling each other funny stories. Lance was in the middle of the time he’d tried to get a girl’s number at McDonalds and had managed to slip on spilled soda. According to Lance he’d toppled into someone’s meal, and upon flailing had knocked into someone walking by and hit their tray into the girl he was flirting with and accidentally pushed that person into another table. When the table flipped the food on it was catapulted into the manager’s face. 

Lance grinned next to Keith. “I’m dead serious. The manager was so pissed! I was banned from that McDonalds and blacklisted from all other fast food chains in the area. The only way I could get anything was if I went through the drive-thru, and you can’t flirt with people in the drive-thru. Trust me, learned that one the hard way.”

Keith shook his head, an incredulous smile on his face. “Do I want to know this story?”

Lance shrugged. “It’s not one of my better ones, honestly. I flirted with the box, pulled up to the window and saw this ancient crone in the window. Worst part? She actually did leave me her number on the bag.”

He couldn’t help it, Keith started laughing. 

“Dude it’s not funny, I still haven’t been to that Wendy’s and it’s been five years.” 

“Come on, it’s kind of funny. For all your flirting that never goes anywhere, the one time it does and it’s some old lady.” 

Lance pouted and crossed his arms, red tingeing the tips of his ears. “I resent that. My flirting works all the time!”

“Nyma doesn’t count.”

The blush spread across Lance’s cheeks. “I wasn’t counting her!”

Keith shook his head, laughter subsiding. “How many dates have you actually scored because of your flirting?” 

“Well…” Lance fidgeted with the wrist panel on his right hand. “Maybe not as often as I want people to believe.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“Oh like your flirting is any better!” Lance said. 

Keith shrugged. “Wouldn’t know. I don’t really flirt with people.” 

Lance looked at him for thirty ticks, a wide grin spreading across his face. 

“Why are you giving me that look?” Keith asked. He scooted a few more inches away from Lance. 

“I’m better than you at flirting. I’m actually better than you at something!” 

Keith slapped his hand over his face and forced himself to take a few deep breaths. “You’re terrible at flirting, remember?”

“But you’re still worse than me!” Lance crowed, his laughter shaking his whole body. 

Keith peeked through his fingers and smiled. He supposed he could let Lance have this. 

The moment didn’t last longer. Lance’s laughter masked the arrival of the Cordalians, and neither of them were aware of their presence until they spoke. 

“You have an uncanny ability,” one of them said, causing both boys to jump to their feet, “to stop feeling sad.”

They glanced at each other. “Um, thank you?” Lance said. 

“It does not work well for us,” the other one said. “We will have to come up with a solution for that.”

“Or you could just let us go,” Lance suggested. “I like that idea.”

“No,” both of the aliens said. They turned their tan eyes on Keith. 

Swallowing his hesitation, he stepped forward. They had slipped into an alternating pattern, and Lance had been manipulated the last time. 

Lance put a hand on Keith’s shoulder, and he glanced back briefly to see the support on Lance’s face. Keith offered the other boy a small smile before meeting the eyes of the Cordalian again. Tan turned to neon green, and the alien spoke. 

“Remember your sadness…all your pain. Think of the cause of it…someone’s death…someone’s absence…perhaps a friend you haven’t seen in a long time…”

Keith hadn’t made many friends in his life; bouncing around the foster care system made it hard. He was never in one place long enough. The closest he’d gotten was with the Richardson’s.

No! Don’t think of them! He tried to force the memory back, tried to divert his thoughts to another track, but it was too late. The dirty dish water smell was morphing into lavender scented candles, and the cell was becoming the dark wood paneling of the den. 

Pictures lined one wall, a timeline of the family history. The most recent additions featured him at his twelfth birthday with his foster brother Jason and his foster parents, Karen and Steven. Keith’s dark hair, shaggy enough to curl around his ears but just short enough to stay out of his eyes, fit in well with the black hair of the foster family. You could hardly tell that he wasn’t related to them. 

Jason, a year older than Keith, was reading on the couch. Keith was on the floor, the parts of a model airplane set up around him. Karen was baking cookies in the kitchen, and Steven was talking quietly with her. Keith couldn’t hear what they were saying; they were making an effort to keep their voices down, meaning they were probably planning some kind of surprise. Eavesdropping was how he’d found out about his birthday party, and about the camping trip they’d taken a month ago. He didn’t want to spoil another surprise. 

Though, he had to admit their voices sounded a little angry for it to be a good surprise. He tried not to worry about it and went back to the model, pulling the instructions a little closer. He’d had the kit for a few months now, but he’d been worried about starting it and not being able to finish before being shipped out to another foster home. Jason had been bugging him to build it for the last few weeks. He wanted to see it firsthand. Since Keith had nothing better to do, he’d finally pulled it down and gotten started. 

Karen and Steven appeared in the doorway. Karen had her hands wrapped around a towel and was biting her lower lip. Steven had his arms around her. “Boys, we need to talk.”

Jason and Keith glanced at each other. No good conversation ever started like that. Jason marked his page and sat up on the couch. “What’s up?” he asked. 

The adults walked in and sat down on the rest of the couch. Karen didn’t take her eyes off Keith. “Well, it’s about our family dynamic,” Karen said. She kept fidgeting with the towel in her hands. 

A weight settled in Keith’s stomach, one he didn’t want to acknowledge. He had never wanted to be wrong so desperately before. 

“Is this about locking Keith out of the house last week?” Jason asked. “Because that was just a joke, I swear, and I’ll never do it again!” 

Karen shook her head. “No, this isn’t about that. But, this is about Keith.”

His mouth went dry. He forced his mind to go blank. He didn’t want to think about it. 

Steven met his gaze, his eyes filled with apology. “We love having you here, Keith. You’ve really become part of the family.” 

Keith’s brow furrowed. This was not usually how this conversation went. Unless…unless they wanted to adopt him? 

Could he even let himself hope something like that?

Could he stop himself now that he’d thought it?

He didn’t trust himself to say anything, so he nodded. 

“But, well, the thing is,” Karen started. Now she wouldn’t meet Keith’s gaze. “We’re not long-term foster care.” 

This could still be leading somewhere good, Keith told himself. They could still be building toward saying they wanted to adopt him. 

“You living with us was always meant to be temporary,” Steven added. “We were just a stop on the road for you.”

They were going to drag this out as long as possible, weren’t they? Keith couldn’t take it anymore. “Where are you going with this?”

“We’re at the end of how long we’re allowed to care for you,” Karen said. “Your social worker has your next home all lined up, and he’ll be by in two weeks to pick you up.”

It felt like the floor dropped out from under him. 

“He’s leaving?” Jason asked. “Why? Why can’t he stay?”

“That’s just the way it is,” Steven said. 

“You could adopt me,” Keith said before he could stop himself. “Then I could stay.”

“Yeah!” Jason said, turning to his parents. “Adopt him! Make it official.” 

Karen and Steven glanced at each other, Karen biting her lip again. “We can’t.” 

“Why not?” Jason demanded. 

They hesitated before answering, and Keith felt his world shattering piece by piece. “I can be better!” he said, his voice cracking. “I’ll…I’ll help around the house more! I can get better grades, and I’ll stop getting detention! I’ll even go to church on Sundays with you!” 

“Oh, Keith,” Karen said. “You’ve always been enough, this isn’t about that.”

“You just don’t want me.” Hot tears stung his eyes. “I thought…” His gaze drifted to the picture from his twelfth birthday. They’d hung it up at Jason’s insistence, when he demanded they have a record of Keith in the family too. 

They all looked happy in that picture, like a real family. But maybe that had just been his imagination. Of course they didn’t want him. Nobody wanted him. They had just tolerated him longer than most, that’s all. 

“I’ll go start packing,” Keith said, voice cold and emotionless. He walked out of the room without a backwards glance, the model kit left unfinished behind him.

At least…he thought he was walking. It felt like his legs were moving, but he didn’t feel like he was going anywhere. And who was holding onto his shoulders? Everyone was still sitting in the living room. And the sink was empty, so why did it smell like dirty dish water? 

He opened his eyes and saw Lance in front of him. 

“Hey, you back?” Lance asked. 

Keith nodded and tried to swallow. Lance wrapped his arms around him. 

“It’s okay, it’s over. Whatever you saw, it’s in the past.” 

Was it? Keith had to wonder. He’d always played that song and dance, the one where he let himself get close to someone only to see them leave him behind. It always happened, every single time. Just look at their situation now: he and Lance had clearly been left behind by the rest of Voltron. The team still had the lions, after all, so what did they need him and Lance for? Both of them were replaceable, and apparently not worth the effort of saving. 

What was it about Keith that made everyone throw him aside?

And why, even when he was so used to it, why did it hurt so badly every time? 

He latched onto Lance and cried. 

“It’s okay,” Lance repeated. “You’re not alone. I’m here. You’re okay.” 

Lance moved them to their usual positions against the wall, cradling Keith against his chest. 

Once Keith had calmed down a little, Lance asked, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Keith took a few minutes to think about it, and in the end he decided that he did. He wanted someone else to understand. “I saw one of my foster families,” he said. 

“Foster families?” Lance repeated. 

Keith nodded against his chest. “My parents died in a house fire when I was four. I didn’t have any other family, so I was put in the system. The system fucking sucks.” 

Lance’s arms tightened and his chin dipped down to rest on Keith’s head.

“The longest I ever stayed in one place was the Richardson’s,” Keith went on. “I was there for over a year, when I was twelve. They were the first family I really connected with. And I tried so hard to be a good son for them. We all got along and I thought everything was perfect. Apparently I was wrong. They never really saw me as part of the family, just someone they were taking care of until I was shipped off somewhere else.” 

“That’s awful.”

“Like I said, the system sucks. I gave up after that. I was always angry and getting in trouble, and no one wants to adopt a problem child like me, especially at that age.” 

Lance’s embrace was almost painful, but Keith didn’t mind. “So that shack in the desert…was that really all you had? There was no one else looking out for you?”

“No one,” Keith said. “Everyone always left anyway, so I didn’t let them get close in the first place. It was easier that way.” He gave a wry laugh. “And the one time I did, he gets assigned a mission to outer edge of the galaxy and goes missing for over a year.” 

“No wonder you’re so terrible at socializing,” Lance muttered. 

“I’m always terrified anyone I meet is just going to leave again,” Keith admitted softly. “Even you and the team.”

“Hey, not happening,” Lance said firmly. “We are family. Me, Hunk, Pidge, and Shiro, and Allura and Coran, too. We’re your family now. Maybe that doesn’t mean much to you, but we aren’t going anywhere. I’m going to be the best brother you’ve ever had.” 

“The bar isn’t exactly set very high,” Keith stated. 

“Do not ruin this moment,” Lance stated. “I am officially adopting you right now. That means I’ll always be around for you. You won’t be alone anymore.” 

Keith wasn’t surprised to feel his eyes watering. “I…I don’t know what to say. Thanks, I guess.”

“My pleasure, little brother.”

“Aren’t I older than you?”

“Shhh. I’m taller and more experienced with sibling stuff. I’m the older brother.”

“That is not how this works.”

“Oh really? How would you know?” 

Keith unfortunately did not have a good retort to that, and he had to let Lance win that one. They didn’t say much else until they fell asleep, Keith still in Lance’s arms.


	5. Reality is Awful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a while, nightmares and reality blend together. At that point, how do you even know when you're awake or when you're asleep?

Keith didn't know which was worse: waking up from his own nightmares or waking up from Lance's. 

Lance had a habit of latching onto Keith when they slept, and for the most part Keith didn't really mind. If he was honest, the contact was reassuring, and he felt like it helped keep his own nightmares at bay. But when Lance's dreams turned dark, Lance tightened his hold around Keith. It took awhile for Keith to feel it because of the armor, but he'd woken up multiple times because Lance had tightened his arms around him like a boa constrictor. 

This morning was one of those. 

"Lance," Keith said, voice still thick with sleep. Attempting to pry Lance's arms off of him was no good, and forget rolling over. _You'd think it'd be easy to wake him up when we’re this close_ , Keith thought. "Lance, wake up." 

He got a pained whimper in response, and Lance buried his face in Keith's hair. 

"Lance!" 

The boy finally stirred, waking up with a jolt. He gasped for breath, arms still painfully tight around Keith. 

"Hey, it's okay. It was just a nightmare," Keith said, face angled towards Lance as best he could. 

"Yeah," Lance's voice was shaky, and he hid in Keith's hair again. "Right. That was the nightmare." 

Keith struggled to roll over and face Lance. Lance barely loosened his grip to allow the action, and as soon as Keith had settled he tightened his arms again. 

"You want to talk about it?" Keith asked. 

It was a long moment before Lance answered. His voice was quiet, and he wouldn't look at Keith. "I dreamed we were here, and the Cordalians had come back. They did their manipulation thing, but while they were doing it they were actually eating us."

Keith blinked. "That's horrifying." 

"Tell me about it," Lance snorted. "The worst part though...I can see that happening. How do we know they won't actually eat us?"

Keith's mind spun to come up with a believable answer quickly enough. "I don't think they physically can. It wouldn't do anything for them." 

"Not as comforting as you'd think," Lance muttered. 

"They won't," Keith insisted. "Physically, I think we're safe here."

"But we're not mentally safe," Lance said. "I mean, look at us. We've barely been out of arm's reach in a week. Before that we hardly ever even sat next to each other, let alone cuddled."

"That's not necessarily a bad thing," Keith said. "We've done it to keep each other sane."

Lance gave a hollow laugh and finally let go of Keith, pushing himself to a seated position so he could hold his head in his hands. "And how long will we stay sane?"

Keith sat up too. "As long as we have to."

Lance didn't say anything for a few minutes. "I can't even be sure that this is real," he said softly, tears slipping down his cheeks. "Between the manipulations and the dreams...I don't know when I'm actually awake."

Keith swallowed heavily. He'd been having the same thoughts recently, but he'd been hoping it was just him. Then he could have just ignored it until they were rescued, and everything would be fine. But Lance was the same way. 

This must be the madness the Cordalians had talked about that first time. And if it was already starting to sink in after just one week, how much longer would they last? 

"We'll be okay," Keith said. "You know this is real, right?"

Lance nodded. 

"See?" Keith said. "We're okay. You're just stressed out, that's all. But the others have to be looking for us. They'll find us, and everything will be fine."

"How?" Lance asked. "If they haven't found us by now, then how will they find us?"

Keith's mouth went dry. "I don't know," he admitted. "But they're the smartest people I know. If anyone can find us, it's them. We just have to trust them." 

Lance sniffled and leaned back against Keith's chest. "You're right. I'm sure they're on their way." It didn't sound that convincing, but Keith appreciated the effort. He wasn't an optimist by nature, and he wasn't sure how long he could keep it up. That was Lance's forte. 

"Course I am," Keith said. "Why don't you get some more rest?"

"Okay." 

They both readjusted themselves so Keith was leaning against a wall and Lance was curled up with his head in Keith's lap. Neither the ground or their uniforms made for comfortable accommodations, but they were making due with what they had. 

Keith absentmindedly ran his fingers through Lance's hair until Lance had fallen back asleep, and then he leaned his head back against the wall and kept doing it. 

The bars of their cell came into focus, and he glared at them. If he'd had his bayard, he would have tried hacking at them, or even trying to saw through them. It might have taken a while, but he would have gotten somewhere eventually. 

But he didn't have his bayard. He didn't have anything to try and saw through the bars with. They'd both tried punching and kicking them their first day, but all they'd accomplished was nearly breaking their hands. 

Still...there had to be some way to get through them. They'd gotten in, after all, so there was definitely a way out. He just had to figure it out. 

Xx

The answer came a few hours later, when their food trays were replaced. The Cordalians tended to just leave the trays and bring down new ones, rotating them as needed. 

The edge wasn't sharp by any means, but it might be narrow enough for Keith's purposes. 

Lance had woken up a while ago, but he hadn't so much as lifted his head since then. Even the promise of food wasn't enticing; it's not like it was any good, and seeing it almost made them lose what little appetite they had. 

But right now, Keith looked at it like it was the only water in a desert. 

"I have an idea," Keith announced, maneuvering out from under Lance. 

"What?" he asked, reluctantly sitting up. 

Keith dumped one of the trays of goop onto the other tray and pressed the first one against the bar. 

"What are you doing?" Lance asked. He crawled over, curiosity piqued. 

Keith dragged the tray back and forth. Flecks of dirt broke off and a solid line imprinted into the bar. He grinned and looked back at Lance. "A way out. Eat your share from that tray." 

He sawed back and forth like a mad man, deepening the line. It was harder than a mound of dirt had any right being, and progress was slow. He'd worked up a sweat in a matter of minutes, but the budding hope in his chest had supercharged his energy and he wasn't slowing down. 

"You're a genius," Lance stated. He scarfed down his share of the goop and then traded places with Keith. 

While Keith was used to eating horribly flavored food, this goop still made him gag the first couple bites. It was a challenge to force it down, but he was properly motivated right now. As soon as the tray was clear, he picked it up and started sawing a little higher on the same bar. 

"It's just freaking mud," Lance panted. "Why is it so hard?" 

"Because it's alien mud," Keith replied. 

Lance snorted. "Well fuck alien mud." 

They worked away at it, hearts pounding. The Cordalians hadn't manipulated them in a while, another session had to be coming soon. If their plan was discovered, they would lose the trays and any chance they had. Or worse, they'd be separated. 

That thought had Keith sawing harder. He wasn't sure about Lance, but he knew he wouldn't last if he was going through this alone. It was only because someone else was there that he was able to keep going.

Lance sat back and dragged the back of his hand over his forehead. “I feel like I’m not getting anywhere,” he said. 

“Keep going,” Keith said, refusing to give up. 

“I was going to!” Lance retorted. He took another minute before resuming. 

They worked on in silence for maybe ten more minutes before they heard the Cordalians coming back. Dropping the trays like hot potatoes, they scrambled away from the bars. The Cordalians came into view, and fresh mud slid down the bars and filled in their hard-won progress. 

Keith’s heart sank into his gut. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Lance mumbled. “All that for nothing?” 

“We had to try,” Keith said. 

Lance sighed. “Right. Anyway, let’s get this over with.” He stepped forward. 

“We will be manipulating both of you today,” one of them said. 

“What? Why?” Lance demanded. 

“You recover far too quickly, the sadness needs to last longer. We’ve deduced that somehow you two are able to make the other happy, so we will experiment with this dynamic.” 

“Great,” Keith muttered. 

“Yeah…this sounds like a terrible idea. I’m gonna not be so cooperative now.” He turned his back on the aliens, crossing his arms. 

Keith followed his example, staring at the cell wall. 

“You’re under the delusion you have a say,” one of them said. 

Keith didn’t hear them move, but a tentacle wrapped around his bicep and he turned right into the green eye. Lance was in a similar position next to him. 

They manipulated him into the memory of his parent’s death again, and even though he knew it wasn’t real, knew on some level that this was old and he’d already gotten over it, he couldn’t help but dissolve into a sobbing mess when it was over. 

His parents were dead. He would never see them again. They would never know how good of a pilot he was or that he was a defender of the universe. And when they finally beat Zarkon and made it back to Earth they wouldn’t be waiting for him, happy to have their son return home. No one would be waiting for him. He was the one always left behind, unimportant. 

“K-Keith?” Lance’s broken voice reached through their sobs. 

He looked over at Lance and saw a scared paladin trying to hug himself, lower lip trembling and body shaking. But he was looking back at Keith with worry in his eyes and trying to pull himself back together for Keith’s sake. 

There was no conscious thought, there hardly ever was in Keith’s mind before he acted. He simply launched himself into Lance’s arms and buried himself in that embrace, one that he was more familiar with than even his own mother’s. 

Lance didn’t try and say anything comforting; both of them were hurting too much to put that much effort into it, but Keith knew the arms wrapped around him weren’t just for his benefit. Keith’s presence helped Lance just as much as Lance helped Keith. 

That was okay. Keith was glad he could return the favor. 

They didn’t move to the wall like normal, merely stayed kneeling in the middle of the cell, clutching each other for dear life. 

It took much longer than usual for them to calm down. Typically they’d stop crying within an hour, but this time Keith would bet they cried for two. Afterwards, Lance simply said “I’m tired,” and laid down, dragging Keith with him. 

Keith didn’t want to sleep yet, didn’t want to see what dreams his subconscious could concoct, but laying down with Lance, his head on Lance’s arm, was surprisingly comfortable and he was exhausted, and he drifted off to sleep. 

Xx

Hours stretched on endlessly in this place. Keith had taken to mindlessly scratching in the ground. There was no point to it; he wasn’t trying to make words or any kind of picture. It was just something to do. 

Lance was still asleep, his head on Keith’s lap. It hardly looks like restful sleep, the way he keeps mumbling and twitching. But Keith didn’t want to wake him up, not when there was nothing to do anyway. He only had so many heartwarming stories. 

He kept his eyes trained on the bars of the cell, just waiting for the Cordalians to show up again. He didn’t know how long it had been since their last manipulation, but it had been a while. They’d be back. They always came back. They’d come back as often as they could until both Keith and Lance were completely insane, unreachable in their own heads. 

Footsteps echoed into their cell, and Keith stiffened. He didn’t want to go through it again, not yet, usually they gave them longer to recover…wait. The Cordalians didn’t make footsteps; their tentacles slithered on the ground. 

Keith moved Lance’s head off his lap and gently laid it on the ground before sprinting to the bars. If it wasn’t the Cordalians, then maybe the team had finally found them? Maybe that was Shiro walking down the hall, quietly checking every cell before theirs. 

“Shiro?” Keith called out hopefully, peering through the bars. There, twenty feet away, a shock of white and black against all the brown that surrounded them. 

Something elbowed him in the chest, but that didn’t make sense. There was nothing around him, nothing that could have hit him. He must have imagined it. No, there it was again. 

He blinked in confusion and found himself on the other side of the cell, curled up on the floor with Lance thrashing in his arms. 

Lance had woken him up because of his nightmare, again. And as Keith went about gently waking Lance up and calming him down, muttering the soothing nothings that Lance always muttered to him, he only had one thought. 

He’d been pretty damn sure he was awake before, when he thought he saw Shiro. Clearly he hadn’t been, but it did make him wonder. 

How did he know that this, right here, was real?


	6. We're Bonding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Operation Make Each Other Not Sad is a go!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this one is really short, but I absolutely adore it.

All their manipulations were done at the same time now. They came out of them sobbing, but they were getting faster at reaching for the other and cuddling against the wall. It was all the comfort they had, really. 

The more Keith saw the Richardson’s telling him they didn’t want him and his father turning his back and leaving him behind, the more Keith clung to Lance. This was the last person he had left in the universe, and right now he needed the physical confirmation that Lance was still there. 

Lance didn’t seem to mind, and Keith only hoped he wasn’t teased too much for this if they ever got out of here. Clingy and cuddly didn’t exactly fit the image of himself he tried to present. He’d be mortified if he wasn’t so close to falling apart all the time. 

“Can I ask you something?” Lance asked. They were sitting next to each other, leaning against each other’s shoulders. 

Keith was jarred out of his thoughts. “Uh, sure?”

“Does it bother you when I talk about my family?” 

“Huh? Why would it bother me?”

Lance’s face took on a pink hue. “Well, just, you know…the whole foster care thing. I’m always rambling on about my family and you’re…”

“Stop,” Keith interrupted. He sat up a little more, forcing Lance to do the same. “Don’t give me that pity. I made my peace with it a long time ago. And I don’t mind you talking about your family. They seem like wonderful people. Well, except for Maria. I don’t think I actually want to meet her.”

Lance laughed. “Yeah, she got all the mean genes in the family. But she’s doing well as a fashion designer. It’s apparently a pretty cutthroat world.” 

“I can imagine,” Keith said. Slowly, they relaxed back into each other. 

“But seriously, if I ever get annoying about my family, just let me know. I don’t want to come off as a jerk.” 

“Have I ever failed to let you know when you’re annoying?” Keith asked. 

“Well, no.”

“Exactly. If it bothered me, I’d let you know. And I wouldn’t ask about them in the first place.” 

“Alright, good. Just so we’re clear,” Lance said, finally settling back against the wall. “Can I ask another question?”

Keith raised a brow. “Yes?”

“Do you remember your real parents?” 

Keith stiffened and looked away from Lance. “Not a whole lot. My mom loved to cook, and my dad used to take me stargazing. He’s what got me into space in the first place.” He didn’t even notice when he started smiling. “He knew all the constellations and the stories behind him, and he’d retell them to me before bed every night.”

“Huh. My dad used to do that with me, too,” Lance said. “Some nights it was the only way to get me to sleep.” 

“They make great bedtime stories,” Keith agreed, leaning back into Lance.

“Yeah…one more question, and you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.” Lance’s voice was quiet and soft, like he was afraid if he spoke too loud Keith might run off. 

Tempting, but Keith was comfortable right where he was. “Go ahead.”

“I know you said they died in a house fire…were you there when it happened?” 

The deep breath Keith took was shaky. “Yeah. It…it was a kitchen fire. Mom had been cooking while arguing with my dad, and then the next thing I knew everything was on fire. Then mom was on fire and rolling on the ground and then…then my dad grabbed me from under the table and threw me out the front door.”

He’s explained this before to people. Classmates were always curious, and he’d learned to shut down any emotion he had while talking about it. Now was no different.

Lance lifted his arm and pulled Keith into his chest. “I’m sorry. That’s…I don’t even have words.”

Keith shrugged, struggling to keep these emotions in their little box. “It was a long time ago.”

“How old were you?”

“Four.”

“Holy shit. You…shit, man.”

Keith shrugged again. He was ready for a conversation change. 

“And now you…the red lion is all about fire, that’s…”

It was like someone reached through his chest and wrapped their hands around his lungs. “The irony was not lost on me,” Keith said, struggling to push his emotions back in their box. 

Lance ran a hand through his hair. It stood up in funny places, both of them long past the “need a shower” mark and reaching “potential new science experiment” levels.

“I try not to think about it usually,” Keith admitted. He curled a little more into a ball. 

Lance swore one more time and tightened his grip around Keith. 

They didn’t see the Cordalians for a long while after that, and Keith had to wonder if they’d just done their job for them. 

After a while, Lance spoke again. “Have I ever told you about how Maria used to use me as her own Barbie doll?”

Keith snorted and looked up at him. “She what?”

Lance was grinning. “Her fashion obsession started at a young age. She’d pick out clothes for me and dress me in them, and once she figured out how to get into Mom’s make-up she started practicing with that too.”

The mental image Lance was painting was hilarious. Keith didn’t even try and hold in his laughter. “How old were you?”

“I was three when she started, but she didn’t stop until I was eight.”

“Please tell me there are pictures.”

“I have burned every picture I ever found, but she still manages to pull blackmail material on me,” Lance said, almost bitterly. 

“That is the first thing I’m asking her for when I meet her,” Keith said. 

“Knowing her she will probably have some on her person. She used to carry them all the time just in case.” 

Keith snickered. “What did she even blackmail you for?”

“To do her chores, mainly. And I had to cover for her a lot when she snuck out. Oh man, someone put a picture of her online once when she did that and mom saw it and got sooo mad. We were both grounded for two months.” 

“Why did you get in trouble? She was blackmailing you!”

“That’s what I said!” Lance said. “Mom said I should have known better and I shouldn’t have lied to her. But my dignity was on the line! Maria was going to share me in a pastel nightmare to the whole school! It was not one of her better outfits, let me tell you.”

“Of course that’s what you were worried about.”

“Hey, after a while you just have to get over it. And I rocked most of the dresses she put me in.” 

Keith smiled and shook his head. Lance’s ego was starting to make sense now. He’d had to cultivate it if he wanted to survive his childhood with Maria. 

“Anyway, what about you? What embarrassing childhood stories do you have?” Lance asked. 

“None. Every day was gloomy and depressing.”

Lance blinked. “I can’t tell if you’re serious or not.” 

Keith elbowed him. “I’m kidding. Give me a sec to think of one.” 

“You need to think? Don’t these moments haunt you every moment of your life like every other person?”

“Pretty sure that’s just you.” 

Lance pouted and turned his head. 

“I got stuck in a tree as a kid,” Keith admitted. “For, like, two hours.” 

The pout was gone almost instantly. “No way.”

“It wasn’t entirely my fault. A branch I’d used to get up broke under me, and I couldn’t reach any others.”

This time Lance snickered. “What did you do?”

“Climbed higher and hoped there’d be another way down.”

Lance put a hand to his face. “Oh my god you would, you idiot.” 

Keith smiled. It was a little embarrassing to admit all this, but it was one of those memories that he could look back on and laugh now. And if it made Lance laugh, then it was worth it. 

“How did you get down?” 

“My neighbor was on the verge of calling the fire department so I jumped.”

“You fucking jumped? How high were you?”

“High enough to snap my ankle,” Keith said. “Neighbor had to drive me to the hospital instead, yelling at me in Italian the whole way.” 

Lance laughed. “This is gold, oh my god. You were stuck in a freaking tree.” 

“More than once,” Keith admitted, heat rising in his face. “The day after I got the cast off I climbed it again.”

“Why?”

Keith could feel his whole face turning red. “To prove that I could get back down this time.” 

“Seriously? No, wait, why am I even surprised? That sounds exactly like what you would do.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“What happened that time?” 

“Belt loop got caught on something and I ended up hanging upside down. Same neighbor found me and yelled in Italian again.”

“How did you get down this time?” 

Now Keith was as red as his lion. “I, uh, took my pants off and fell.” 

Lance laughed so hard his body shook Keith, and he was pretty sure the Cordalians could probably hear them wherever they were. “You, the great Keith Kogane, could only get out of a tree by taking your pants off and falling.”

“Shut up.” 

It took a few minutes before the roaring laughter died down to a few chuckles. Lance wiped tears from his eyes. “Whew, okay, I’m good.” 

“This story gets worse.”

“Oh do tell.”

“Well, I had to get my pants back, preferably before my foster family knew they were there, and I was tired of my neighbor yelling at me, so I waited until my neighbor was out and my foster family wasn’t home and climbed the tree again.” 

“You fucking didn’t.”

“Hey, I couldn’t let the tree win, man.” 

“This tree already beat you twice, I think it won.”

Keith rolled his eyes. His face had cooled down, finally. The worst of the story was over. “Anyway, I climbed the tree, got my pants back, and then the branch I was on broke and I fell again. Broke my wrist that time.” 

Lance howled with laughter. “You got your ass handed to you by a tree. Three fucking times.” 

“I will deny this if you ever tell anyone.”

“Dude, what happens in this freaky cave cell stays in this freaky cave cell.”

Keith relaxed into Lance’s side. 

“But I am so telling Hunk you lost to a tree.”

Keith groaned. There goes what little reputation he had. Though, he couldn’t really imagine the teasing being that bad. And he now had tons of stuff to tease Lance with right back.


	7. Best friends? Best friends.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You know you've reached best friend levels when you admit your darkest secrets. 
> 
> OR: Keith needs to cheer Lance up, and what better way than revealing something embarrassing?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god all your comments on the last chapter were amazing! They totally made my day! Thanks so much!

_He didn’t look back at the Richardson’s as he walked out of the den. They didn’t want him. He shouldn’t be so surprised, nobody did. They had just tolerated him longer than most. But in the end, it was always the same. People always took the first chance they had to leave him behind._

“Keith? Hey, are you with me?” 

Keith found himself in their little cell once more, the stench of dirty dish water assaulting him full force. “Lance.”

Lance smiled at him, but it was forced. Dark bags were under his eyes and dirt was smudged on his cheeks, broken by the trails his tears left. The easy light that used to fill his face was gone, stolen by the Cordalians and all their greedy manipulations. Keith had no doubt he looked even worse. 

Lance gestured to the cell wall and they took their usual spot, arms around each other in the only comfort they still had. 

_If this is even real,_ Keith thought. It felt just like the memories he kept reliving. For all he knew those memories were real life and this was the hallucination. It would make more sense for this to be fake, anyway. Aliens that can manipulate emotions and feed off of them? Defending the universe in a giant robot made up of other less giant robots? It all seemed unreal. 

Maybe it was. 

His eyes widened. What if this really wasn’t real? What if he was in a coma back on Earth, and this was all one giant dream? Or maybe the Cordalians were messing with him, only making him think he was in a cell with Lance while really they were doing whatever they wanted to his real body. 

How could he even figure it out? 

“Hey, you okay?” Lance asked. 

“I…” His breathing had picked up, and he was on the verge of hyperventilating. “I don’t know if this is real,” Keith admitted. 

Lance shifted so he could look at Keith’s face, and the amount of concern on the boy’s face almost convinced Keith this had to be fake. No one had cared about him like this in a long time; clearly it had to be fake, that was the only explanation. 

“Just calm down. Deep breaths. This is real, I promise,” Lance said. “It sucks ass, but this is reality.” 

“How do I know you’re real?” Keith whispered. 

He regretted the words instantly. Lance’s face morphed into one of heartbreak, and Keith didn’t see it change before he was enveloped in a hug and his face was buried in Lance’s chest. 

“I don’t have any way to prove it to you,” Lance whispered, one hand running through Keith’s hair. “But you have to trust me. This is real. We both stink to high heaven, the only thing we’ve eaten in weeks is some godawful mush worse than the Paladin Lunch Coran made us, and we’ve literally been cuddling for, like, two weeks straight.” 

Lance’s hand ran circles on his back as he kept talking. “I’ve told you about my family and you told me about your childhood, and I’ve adopted you as my little brother. You told me about the time you got your ass handed to you by a tree.”

Keith snorted in laughter. 

“Reality sucks, big time,” Lance went on. “But you can’t fall apart on me now. I need you.” 

The deep breath Keith took wasn’t as shaky as his previous breaths, and he took that to be a good sign. He nodded. “I freaking hate our reality.” 

“First chance I get I’m going to punch all those Cordalians in the face,” Lance agreed. “And then I’m going to shoot them. And then I’ll find a way to turn them into fleas.”

“What?” Keith demanded, wrenching himself out of Lance’s arms to look at him. “Why?”

Lance just grinned. “So that I can put them in a box. And then I’ll put that box in another box. And then I’ll mail that box to myself and when it arrives,” he cackled, “I’ll smash it with a hammer!”

The stare-off lasted a solid minute. Lance beamed, immensely proud of himself, and Keith looked him over with his jaw almost on the floor, wondering if Lance had actually lost his mind. 

“I don’t think space has a postal service,” Keith said slowly. 

Lance’s face fell. “What? No, it’s…come on, Emperor’s New Groove?”

Keith shook his head, never once breaking eye contact with Lance. 

“You’ve never seen Emperor’s New Groove.” 

“It’s a movie?” 

“Yeah, like the best Disney movie of all time!”

Keith sagged in relief. “Oh thank god, you were just quoting a movie. I thought you’d actually gone insane.”

Lance sighed. “I can’t believe you haven’t seen it.” 

“I just never got around to it,” Keith shrugged. “I’m not really big on movies, honestly.” 

Lance shook his head and turned his gaze to the ceiling. “I’ve been stuck this whole time with uncultured swine.”

_“Excuse me?”_

Bringing his gaze back to Keith, Lance put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay. There’s still time to save you from this massive oversight.”

Keith spluttered several unintelligent syllables before giving up and crossing his arms, turning his back to Lance for good measure. Lance took it in stride, going on and on about different Disney movies he needed to make sure Keith watched. 

Keith just let him ramble. It was nice to have something else to focus on besides their terrible reality, and some of the movies Lance was describing did sound pretty good. And he was never going to admit that he had seen a few of them, especially when Lance started singing some of the songs. Watching Lance act out “A Whole New World” (both parts) was just too entertaining. There was no way he was going to ruin it.

Xx

When Lance finally collapsed and started drifting off to sleep, Keith forced himself to stay awake. He knew that this moment right here was real, and he was going to hold on to that for as long as he could. 

Sitting against the wall, Lance’s head in his lap and his fingers idly running through Lance’s hair was surprisingly peaceful. A few hours passed before that peace was shattered. 

Normally, when Lance had a nightmare, he’d get restless in his sleep and start muttering. This time, there was no warning. Lance simply jackknifed to a sitting position, screaming and with impossibly wide eyes. 

“Whoa! Hey, Lance, it’s okay!” Keith said, putting a hand on his shoulder. 

Lance stopped screaming, at least, covering his mouth with a hand and staring off at nothing. His breathing was still erratic, though. 

Keith rubbed circles into his back. “It’s okay, it was just a dream. You’re okay.” 

A sob tore through Lance’s mouth, and Keith pulled him into his embrace. Lance folded against Keith’s chest, curling up into a ball as well as he could. 

“Shhh, you’re okay,” Keith repeated. He would say them as many times as he needed to until Lance calmed down again. 

“I want to go home,” Lance muttered between his sobs. “I miss my family and my house and good food.” 

“We will, one day,” Keith said. 

“I’m sick of this stupid cell. I just want to go home.” His crying grew worse, tears and snot running off his face onto Keith’s suit. Keith had certainly done the same to Lance over the weeks; neither of their suits were the pristine white they used to be. 

“I promise you we will, soon,” Keith said. He’d promise anything if it would make Lance feel better. 

It took a long time for Lance to stop crying, and even longer for the lingering hiccups to subside. Keith didn’t ask what nightmare Lance had had, and Lance didn’t offer to explain it. Keith had a few guesses, all revolving around Zarkon and death, and he was content to stay ignorant. 

But now Keith was left with a sad Lance, and he needed to find a way to cheer him up again. It was the only way they had to fight back against the Cordalians, and Keith hated seeing Lance to still and quiet. 

“You know one of the things I miss most about Earth?” Keith started. He couldn’t believe he was admitting this. This was going to give Lance so much material to tease him with. He would never hear the end of it, but Lance would find it hilarious and that was what Keith needed right now. 

“What?” Lance asked. He didn’t look up at Keith, barely even moved at all.

Keith took a deep breath, shoving his pride in the box with the rest of his emotions. “Anime.” 

Lance snorted and turned just enough to look up at Keith’s face. “Anime?” His eyes still looked impossibly tired, but at least there was life coming back into them. 

The tips of Keith’s ears burned. “I use to watch it all the time. I had a couple DVD sets in the desert with me.”

Lance smiled against his leg. “You’re a freaking weaboo. I should have known.” 

“There’s nothing wrong with anime,” Keith defended. 

“What kind did you watch?” 

“The action adventure ones,” Keith said. “Like Fullmetal Alchemist and Code Geass.” 

“FMA is the shit man,” Lance said. 

“You’ve seen it?”

“C’mon, give me some credit,” Lance said. “I haven’t watched a lot, just the more mainstream ones.” 

The smile was spreading to the rest of Lance’s face, finally. He was still really tired, and it was only a matter of time until he fell asleep again, but Keith was satisfied that he’d cheered him up even a little. 

“I’ll have to loan you my DVD’s when we get back,” Keith said. 

“And while I’m watching those, you’ll be watching all the Disney movies you missed out on,” Lance said. 

“Sure,” Keith agreed. 

Lance’s eyes slipped closed, the smile still on his face. He muttered something, and Keith almost didn’t hear it. “All this time I thought you were just super emo, but really you’re just freaking anime trash.” 

A blush spread over Keith’s cheeks, but at least Lance didn’t see it. His breathing evened out into sleep just a few minutes later, and Keith found himself carding his fingers through his hair again. 

He could only imagine what Lance’s reaction would have been if he’d told him Shiro was the one who introduced him to most of his favorites.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No offense to any anime fans out there (I too am anime trash). It just seemed to fit the characters this way so I rolled with it.


	8. Fin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's exactly what you expect to be in the last chapter.

Keith had completely lost track of how much time they’d been down there. It could have been a week, it could have been a month. He wouldn’t be surprised if someone told him a year had passed. 

What was surprising was the physical closeness he and Lance had. Any time they did spread out to opposite sides of the cell made them unexplainably anxious. To Keith, it felt like something was missing, and it played with the old wound the Richardson’s had left, like he was afraid Lance would suddenly leave too. 

He wasn’t sure he liked this new change in his psyche, but he was leaving that as a problem to deal with later. It wasn’t like it particularly mattered when they were stuck in the same cell, especially when it seemed like that status was never going to change.

Lance shook him awake at one point, asking, “Did you hear that?”

“No, I was asleep,” Keith growled. “And I’d like to still be asleep.” He put his head back down on Lance’s chest, shutting his eyes. They’d just been manipulated before falling asleep, and he was still emotionally drained. Imaginary sounds could wait until later. 

“No, seriously, listen.” 

“Seriously, go back to sleep,” Keith retorted. 

Lance did the exact opposite, slipping out from under Keith and walking to the bars. 

Keith mourned the loss of his pillow, but had no problems curling up right where he was. He did, however, have a problem with how close Lance was to the bars. He kept one eye open, watching him. 

That was when he heard it, the sound of repeated gunshots and fighting. 

He joined Lance at the bars. “What the hell?” 

“I don’t want to get my hopes up, but…” Lance started. 

“That sounds like Hunk’s bayard,” Keith finished. 

Lance nodded. 

“Well, they had to find us eventually,” Keith said. 

“You think it’s really them?”

“Guess we’ll wait and see.” And hope to whatever gods exist in space that this was reality and not another dream. 

They stayed pressed to the bars, watching the doorway closely. The fighting got louder, which meant whatever was happening was getting closer. 

“What if it’s not them?” Lance asked. “What if it’s the Galra?” 

“Why would the Galra suddenly attack the Cordalians?” 

“Maybe they found our lions and know we’re here, and they’re trying to capture us,” Lance said. 

“I doubt it. They want the lions, not us.” 

“But they can’t fly the lions without us.” 

“Are you trying to worry us to death?” Keith finally asked. “It’s not the Galra. It can’t be.”

“Right, right, sorry.” 

“Keith! Lance!” 

“That’s Shiro!” both of them exclaimed. 

If this was just another dream, it was very convincing. And he so desperately wanted it to be real…he wasn’t sure he’d survive if it turned out to be fake. Hope had already built up in his chest and taken up permanent residence. Tearing it out now would destroy him.

“C’mon, if we yell at the same time we’ll definitely be loud enough for them to hear us,” Lance said. 

Keith nodded. “On three. One, two, three.”

“Shiro!”

“We’re down here!” 

“Help!”

“I hear them! This way!” Pidge’s voice. 

“Oh man I’m so happy I could cry,” Lance said. 

“Please don’t. We’ve done enough of that,” Keith said. 

Lance laughed. “Oh man I know. I think we filled the crying quota, for, like, a year.” 

“We cried more than it rains in the desert,” Keith stated. 

Lance snorted. “You would know.” 

“Yes, yes I would.” 

“Guys! Keep yelling!” Shiro said. 

“We’re over here!” Lance said. 

“This way!” Keith said. 

They kept up a string of random phrases until Shiro finally slid into view. The relief was visible on all their faces. 

“You guys okay?” Shiro asked. 

“Other than desperately needing showers?” Keith asked. _And wondering if this is real?_

“I mean I’m a little hungry, they barely fed us this whole time,” Lance said. 

Shiro laughed. “We’ll have a feast when we get back, don’t worry. Now stand clear.” His right hand glowed, and the boys didn’t need another warning. Shiro’s hand cut through the bars easily, providing the hole they needed for an escape. As soon as the barrier was gone, Shiro wrapped both of them in a tight bear hug. Keith clung to him; he felt real enough, and the idea that this was actually happening, they were actually being rescued, was growing in his mind. Then came the realization that _Shiro had come, Shiro cared, Shiro hadn’t abandoned him,_ crawling into his mind. 

“How did you guys find us?” Keith asked when Shiro let them go and they started to work their way through the tunnels. 

“It wasn’t easy. We tracked your helmets and found the fight, but there was no trace of where you’d gone. We’ve been searching this whole planet for any signs, talking with every village we come across. We found this one the other day and the people seemed weird, so we dug a little further until finding one of the ones that ambushed you. He admitted everything.” 

“Like, everything, everything?” Keith asked. He wasn’t embarrassed by the events of the last however many weeks, exactly, but he still wasn’t sure he wanted the others to know. 

“Yeah. If you guys need to talk about what happened, please do, we’ll all listen, just not right this second.” 

Keith glanced at Lance. Lance didn’t seem particularly thrilled either, but he nudged Keith’s arm while they ran and everything felt just a little better. 

“Where are the others?” Lance asked. 

“Allura and Coran were keeping the mob upstairs busy, and Pidge was with me until she locked onto your bayards’ signals. Hunk is guarding our exit in case any of them get past Allura and Coran.”

“Coran is fighting?” they both asked. 

Shiro smirked. “He’s got quite the moves, I’ll give him that.” 

“Shiro!” Pidge yelled, running in from another hallway. She had the red and blue bayards in her left hand, her own green one activated in her right. 

“Pidge!” Lance shouted. 

Pidge grinned. “You guys are okay!” She launched into Lance’s arms, hugging him fiercely with her feet a good eight inches off the ground. “Thank God.” 

“Good to see you, too,” Lance said. He put her down after a minute, and she launched herself at Keith. 

“Don’t ever scare us like that again, got it?” 

“Yes ma’am,” Keith said. 

She smiled up at him. The hug ended a moment later, and she passed them their bayards. “Your helmets are already back on the ship.”

“Perfect,” Lance said. 

“Alright, time to go,” Shiro said. They set off again, meeting up with Hunk at the entrance to the city overhead (he almost broke their ribs in a giant bear hug) and then joining Allura and Coran. 

The large room they found themselves in was absolute chaos. Cordalians were everywhere, some unmoving on the ground and others rushing at Allura and Coran. Allura held a long spear, and she was a lethal whirlwind with it. The Cordalians, much smaller than her, couldn’t even get close. Coran held two daggers in his hand, and while he didn’t have the effortless grace and beauty Allura had, he was his own brand of destruction. 

Both the Alteans noticed the paladins’ arrival and smiled. “It’s good to see you,” Allura said.

They didn’t stick around to finish the fight. They had what they wanted, and creating an escape out of there was easy enough. Keith and Lance were kept in the center of the group the whole way, which was perfectly fine with both of them. 

On the castle, Allura sent the mice a mental message to activate the particle barrier so that none of the Cordalians could follow them on board, and then they all rushed into the control room for take-off.

“Time to leave this horrid planet behind,” Allura said. 

“Hear, hear,” Keith said. He stood with his arm brushing against Lance’s.

“I couldn’t agree more,” Lance said. 

Take-off didn’t take long, and then they were safe in the emptiness of space. That was when Allura rushed both of them and grabbed both of them up in her own bear hug, and Keith thought he actually heard something crack. 

No sooner were they put down than Coran picked them up. 

“Guys, a little too much love,” Lance said. 

“Still need to breathe,” Keith added. 

“Sorry about that,” Coran said. “It’s just not the same without you two around.” 

“Yes, you do bring a certain life to the castle,” Allura said. “I’m so sorry all this happened. If we had known the Cordalians’ condition, we would have prepared better.” 

“Come on, don’t beat yourself up over it,” Lance said. “We managed just fine.” 

Allura did not look convinced. 

“Really, Allura, we’re okay,” Keith said. “No lasting harm.” Not if this was real, anyway, which he was about ninety percent sure it was. 

“We should probably still run you through a scanner, just in case,” Coran said, pulling on his mustache. “That head wound looks pretty nasty, Keith.”

“Huh?” He reached up to his temple where dried blood still crusted his skin. “Oh, forgot about that.” 

“We’ll take care of it lickity-split.” 

“And while he’s doing that, I’m going to start on dinner,” Hunk said. “Oh man, you guys it’s going to be awesome. There’s this plant down there that can be ground up into flour. I’ve filled an entire storeroom with nothing but. We will be eating well for months.” 

“Awesome, man!” Lance said. 

“Looking forward to it,” Keith said, smiling at him before following Coran out. He was still close enough to hear the next few comments.

“They were manipulated to feel intense sadness for three weeks,” Pidge said. “Why does Keith seem more smiley now than he was before?”

Hunk laughed. “Because he was also in close quarters with Lance for three weeks. No one stays depressed around him for very long.” 

Keith smiled again and looked over at Lance. The tips of his ears were red, meaning he’d heard the comments too. Keith nudged his arm. “You know, I think your Uncle Tony would be proud of you.” 

Lance’s mouth fell open, and his eyes watered. He wiped his eyes and smiled. “Thanks. All things considered, we did pretty well out there together.” 

“Yeah, almost weird to be back,” Keith agreed. 

“We’ll get everything back to normal in no time!” Coran said. “You’ll see!” 

They were each put in a pod for half an hour, their bruises really nothing serious but Coran insisted on it, and then they were finally given the greatest gift of all: showers. 

Their rooms had their own bathrooms, showers included, and it was weird actually being apart from each other. Keith didn’t take as long as he’d originally planned, the silence strangely oppressing. He’d never had issues being alone before, but not feeling Lance next to him was almost sending him into a panic attack. 

_Calm down. You cannot physically be next to Lance 24/7. You need to get used to this again._

Lance knocked on his door while he was drying his hair. “Hey Keith, you ready for this big dinner Hunk promised?” 

“One sec!” He grabbed his clothes, and it felt much better than it should have to not be wearing the flight suit for once. His jeans and t-shirt felt like silk. 

Lance was bouncing from foot to foot when Keith finally opened the door, but he instantly seemed more at ease upon seeing Keith. Clearly, he was having the same separation issue Keith was. 

“Let’s go eat real food,” Keith said. 

Lance chattered on about how excited he was for real food and he couldn’t wait to see what Hunk made first, taking a few guesses on what he thought Hunk could even attempt all the way out here. 

The spread that they found in the dining room was even better than they’d dreamed. 

“Pizza?” Lance said, his mouth visibly watering. “You made pizza?” 

The dough was purple, and Hunk had watered down the green space goo for sauce, and Keith wasn’t sure he wanted to know what the black cheese substitute on top was, but it was definitely pizza. 

“Thought we all could use a little comfort food,” Hunk said. “So, what kind of pizza do you want?”

“Oh man I don’t even care just put it in my mouth,” Lance said, taking a step forward. 

Keith snatched onto the back of his jacket, fighting a smile. “That’s not the right answer.” 

“What do you mean? I really don’t care,” Lance said. 

“You said the answer was Mint Chocolate Chip.” 

Shiro, Hunk, and Pidge all made horrified faces, and Allura and Coran just glanced at one another in confusion. 

Lance though, once the gears clicked into place, let out a loud “OOOOHHHHHH!” and pointed at Keith and starting to crack up. “I can’t believe you remembered that you said it was dumb!” 

Keith leaned against the doorway and gave in to his laughter, clutching his stomach. 

“I’m so confused and slightly disgusted,” Hunk said. “Who puts ice cream on pizza, Lance?”

Lance waved a hand at him. “No, no, it’s…inside joke.” Both boys were having a hard time controlling their laughter.

“They…have an inside joke?” Pidge asked. “Are we sure this is the right Keith and Lance?” 

Considering the circumstances of the inside joke, this only made the two laugh harder, until they were on the floor with tears streaming down their face. 

“The scanners said it was the real them,” Coran said. “Though they certainly aren’t acting like their usual selves.” 

“No, we’re the real ones,” Keith said, struggling to get himself under control. “Sorry.” He went on to explain the joke as well he could in his laughter. By the time he was done, he and Lance had calmed down and the others were smiling and shaking their heads. 

“That’s actually a really good idea,” Pidge said. “We should have some kind of code in case we’re ever replaced with something.” She adjusted her glasses. “I’m not sure about pizza and ice cream though.”

“It’s blasphemy,” Hunk said. “I mean, unless you have some kind of cookie crust, then maybe it could work.”

“The really funny thing?” Lance said, taking a slice of plain pizza. “With the green sauce and black cheese, it is kind of like mint chocolate chip.” 

Keith snorted. 

“Hey, don’t mock my pizza,” Hunk said. “I can take it back.”

“No please Hunk I’m sorry I didn’t mean it your space pizza is gorgeous,” Lance said, dragging an entire pie closer to himself just in case. 

“Just eat your pizza,” Keith said, snatching a slice from the pie Lance had grabbed. He had conveniently brought it into Keith’s reach. 

The night went on as normal from there, everyone just glad to be back together. They didn’t get into what had happened in the last few weeks, and none of them mentioned the war at all. It was just a lighthearted celebration that they were all okay. 

If anyone noticed that Keith and Lance sat a little closer than usual, or that later Lance grabbed Keith before they separated for bed and dragged him into his own room, they didn’t say anything. It was to be expected that the two would bond over such an ordeal. 

Things quickly settled back to normal, only there were considerably less petty arguments between the red and blue paladins. And also a lack of personal space between them. Keith hardly spent any time alone in the training room, instead spending his free time learning Altean curled up against Lance in the lounge. They always sat next to each other at meals, and they always stood next to each other during mission briefings or strategy meetings. 

It might not have been exactly normal, but everyone silently agreed that this new normal wasn’t half bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man I just want to thank all of you guys again. Your comments were the best I love each and every one of them. 
> 
> Fun fact: In the original draft, Keith's parents died much more brutally. I was thinking I might post that if people were interested in a bloodier backstory with plausibility issues? Let me know if you'd want to read it!
> 
> And thanks again, seriously you guys rock!


	9. Bonus Pain and Angst

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's bloody and brutal and ya'll asked for it so don't blame me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY LONG TIME NO SEE 
> 
> Enough of you sadistic readers asked to see the bloodier way that Keith's parents died in my original draft, and after completely forgetting about this for...however many months, I figured I'd go ahead and post it. So here, pain, angst, blood, the works.

He blinked, and opened his eyes to see his kitchen. The white linoleum floor was peeling next to the wall, hidden by the table he was currently playing under.

 

A few feet away he could see his mother’s bare feet, moving gracefully over the kitchen floor while she cooked dinner. She was making his favorite- dak galbi. The aroma of the different spices made everything smell good, which was why he was playing in here and not in the living room. He loved the smell of dak galbi. It was part of why this was his favorite.

 

A door closed, and heavy boots walked into view. Keith smiled and raced out from under the table, launching himself into waiting arms. “Daddy!”

 

“Hey kiddo,” his father said. He rested Keith on his hip, supporting him with one arm while another reached up to ruffle Keith’s hair. “You being good?” It was easy to tell that Keith got a lot of his looks from his father. They had had the same eye shape and the same black hair, and the same nose, but the color of his eyes was from his mother and in time he’d have her face shape.

 

“Uh huh! Look what I made in pre-school!” Keith said, pointing eagerly to the fridge. A piece of paper was secured by no less than five magnets, covering most of the bottom of the fridge. A crudely shaped elephant was painted on the surface, done with steady fingers and a rainbow of paints.

 

His father walked over to the fridge and squatted down. “Look at that. I’ve never seen an elephant with that many colors before.”

 

“Steven wouldn’t let me have the gray, and when I tried to use blue I got yelled at for not sharing, so I had to use a bunch or I’d get yelled at again.” Keith pouted for a moment, but then his smile returned. “But that’s okay! I just pretend he’s from Mars and that’s why he’s got so many colors.”

 

“A Martian elephant, huh,” his father said. “Never would have thought of that.”

 

Keith beamed. His father slid him off his lap onto the floor and then pulled the fridge open. He pulled out a brown bottle and popped off the cap with the counter next to him.

 

A heavy sigh came from the woman cooking. “Not even home five minutes and you’re already drinking,” she stated.

 

“Give me a break,” he retorted, easy humor gone and replaced with irritation. “It’s Friday and I’ve had a long week.”

 

She glared at him from where she was cutting up vegetables. “Then what was the excuse on Monday? Or on Saturdays for that matter? Or any other day of the damn week?”

 

“You really want to do this now in front of him?”

 

“Oh please, like you care. You’ve said and done far worse in front of him before.” She slid the vegetables into a wok.

 

Keith retreated under the table, grabbing onto his Optimus Prime toy and hugging it to his chest. He hated when his parents fought.

 

“Only when I’m drunk!”

 

“Which is every damn night! You have a problem!”

 

“I’ve got lots of problems! This takes the edge off, you know that! You knew that when you married me!”

 

“It wasn’t as bad then!” she shouted. “You limited yourself to weekends only, and when Keith was born you almost quit altogether! But now you’re worse than ever! You need help Kevin!”

 

“Yes, I do drink more now, you know why? Because my job fucking sucks and when I come home I get you nagging at me all night!”

 

“Oh I’m sorry I ask you to fix things around the house because you’re my _husband_ and you actually know how!”

 

The steps she took around the kitchen weren’t graceful now, they were angry stomps.

 

Keith pulled his knees in close to his body. Their fights weren’t always this bad, but it happened more than he liked. The yelling was only going to get worse until his father snapped and slapped his mother, unless she snapped first and hit him (those fights took days to get over. Neither one of them spoke to the other much.)

 

“Maybe I’d like to come home and just relax once in a while, not spend the rest of my waking hours being your personal repair man!”

 

“Well if you fixed things right the first time you wouldn’t have to keep fixing them!”

 

“It’s not my fault! This house was old thirty years ago! You’re the one who wanted to get an old house because it had ‘charm’ and ‘character!’”

 

“So now it’s my fault?”

 

“Yes! I wanted a more modern house that wouldn’t need my constant attention!”

 

“You loved this house too when we bought it so don’t give me that!”

 

“I loved it because you were so enamored with it! I wanted to make you happy!”

 

“Well I’m certainly not happy now!”

 

“Of course not. You’re never fucking happy!”

 

Keith squeezed his eyes shut and dropped his toy, using his hands to cover his ears instead.

 

The plastic clattering on the floor reminded both parents that there was a toddler in the room still.

 

“Look,” his father said. “We’ve gone over this before. We can’t afford to move, so we’re stuck with what we’ve got. Maybe we just need to get used to the idea of living in a broken house.”

 

“That’s not the only thing that’s broken,” his mother muttered. The knife chopped down on the cutting board, slicing through the chicken violently. “And you know maybe we’d actually be able to afford a new house if you stopped drinking all our money!”

 

The bottle slammed into the ground, exploding on impact. Beer and glass shot in every direction, and Keith jumped so badly he hit his head on the table.

 

Neither of his parents noticed. “Damn it, Min, enough already!”

 

“Yes, this is enough, I’ve had it!”

 

“Put the damn knife down,” his father said, his voice hard and steely.

 

Keith, hands rubbing his head against the bruise now forming, froze. That was the way his father usually sounded before slapping his mom. It was what he sounded like when he was losing control of his temper.

 

“You know how much money you’ve wasted on beer in the last month alone? Almost three hundred dollars. Three hundred dollars! Between what you bring home and what you spend at the bar, we could pay to have this place renovated and actually fixed, or at least realistically save up until we could! But you’d rather drink all your problems away than fix them!”

 

“Min.”

 

“No! I’m not done! If you don’t get this damn drinking problem under control—“

 

“Put the damn knife away before I do!”

 

Keith hesitantly peeked out, a morbid curiosity pushing him to see what was happening. His mother talked with her hands a lot, and she was clearly waving the knife around in her anger as she ignored his father and kept talking. She slipped into Korean, and Keith had a harder time understanding what was being said.

 

His father stepped forward and grabbed her arm, wrenching the knife from her grasp. He yelled in Korean too, and at some point Keith heard his name and saw the knife pointing to him.

 

This was one of the first fights he’d ever seen. Both of his father’s hands were in a fist, and it didn’t take a lot of imagination to know what he wanted to do with them.

 

Both of their voices started to get louder, until they were talking over one another and gesturing wildly. The vegetables in the wok popped and sizzled, and they were starting to smell burned. No one seemed to notice or care.

 

No one but Keith who watched everything and noticed every little detail about this moment, because this fight was different from the others. This one was worse.

 

Keith saw the moment his father lost control and gave in to his impulse. He saw the hand clench around the knife and saw the knife flash before it was hilt deep in his mother’s chest. She stumbled back, knocked the wok off the stove, and fell to the ground.

 

His father stepped back too, crunching over broken glass, knife still in his hand. Blood dripped off the end to mix with the beer on the floor.

 

For several long moments, no one did anything. And then his father dropped the knife and fell to his knees. “Oh my god. What have I done?”

 

Keith looked from his father to his mother, too young to fully comprehend what was happening. The idea of death was still too complicated for him, but he knew something was wrong when his mother didn’t move.

 

He creeped out from under the table. “Mommy?”

 

“Keith,” his father said, voice breaking. “Oh god you saw everything.”

 

“Daddy what’s going on? Is mommy okay? Why won’t she get up?”

 

Tears rolled down his father’s face. “Keith…I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I…shit. I need to call an ambulance. Maybe there’s still time…” He jumped up and reached for the phone, but Keith didn’t pay attention to the call. He crawled over to his mother, poking her cheek. His father joined him a minute later, phone back in its cradle. He was still crying.   


“Keith, you know I love both you and your mother, right?” his father asked.

 

Keith nodded.

 

“I want you to know how sorry I am too,” he said. “I’m so sorry, more than you can ever know. I loved you and your mother with all my heart. I’m sorry I couldn’t be better for you. You deserved so much more than a drunkard for a father.”

 

Keith blinked and put a hand on his father’s leg. “Daddy?”

 

His father was still crying. “I’m sorry Keith. I’m a terrible father. You deserve better. Try and forget about me, okay? You’ll be happier without me. Someone nice will adopt you and give you the life you deserve.”

 

Keith tilted his head, not understanding what was going on. But the knife was back in his father’s hand and it was being dragged across his father’s throat, and there was so much blood, so much blood, it was getting everywhere, and then his father fell back on the floor, growing as quiet and still as his mother.

 

Keith didn’t know what death meant, but he was getting an idea. And he didn’t like it. “Daddy?” he whispered. His breathing was getting erratic. He was scared. He didn’t like what was going on. “Daddy wake up!” Why wouldn’t his parents wake up? Why would they leave him alone like this? They wouldn’t, would they? They’d be fine in a minute, they just needed a little nap…

 

Deep down, he knew they wouldn’t. And that was why when a minute passed, and then another, and then another, he screamed. He screamed loud and long until he couldn’t breathe, and then he took a deep breath and screamed again, hands buried in his hair, trying to wake himself up, trying to tell himself this was just a bad dream, he’d wake up in a minute, his parents were fine they were just sleeping, he was fine.

 

But his head really hurt and his knee must have landed in the broken glass, because that hurt too and he felt sore all over (did screaming this much normally make one’s body ache so badly?) and he didn’t want look at this gory scene anymore, he could just pretend it wasn’t there. There was no blood or glass or beer or even a kitchen, it was just a cave floor, he wasn’t really here at all, but he was and he could still smell the burned vegetables and the blood and the poles of the wooden table (When had he crawled back under?)

 

But they weren’t table legs, they were bars, because he wasn’t really in this kitchen, he couldn’t be, he hadn’t been for years, it didn’t make sense, but he was there, his parents’ bodies were right there, but that didn’t make sense his parents were dead, and he was so confused, was he there or not?

 

It was too confusing. He shut his eyes hard, and he refused to open them again. Lance could call his name all he wanted, he wasn’t responding, he didn’t care anymore, it didn’t matter. If just ignored the world then what was real or not didn’t matter because it didn’t exist and he didn’t have to care if he was four years old or eighteen or whether he was in his parents’ kitchen or some cave cell. He would pretend he didn’t exist and then the world wouldn’t exist and maybe then he’d finally find peace.

 

He floated in oblivion for a while, refusing to think of anything. Eventually, though, his thoughts started up again. He could feel the aches and pains of his body, the throbbing at his temple from the concussion and the burning in his knee from a laser blast.

 

He also felt arms around him, pulling him into someone’s chest, and that someone also had their head resting on his. He tried to open his eyes, struggling more than he knew he should, before realizing they were already open, and then it took him another few moments to focus on what he was seeing.

 

Lance’s arms were wrapped around him, holding him close. Keith was sitting in his lap, and judging from his cramped muscles he had been for a while. Lance didn’t move at first while Keith readjusted himself to their cell. The Cordalians were gone, but Keith didn’t know how much time had passed since they’d done whatever it had been to him.

 

That memory…he’d tried so hard to repress it, to never think about it. And now it felt like it had just happened, like he’d just lost his parents all over again.

 

 


End file.
